


Summoned

by AcademiaCrypt



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, I like to call this version a Din Djarin/ Oberyn Martell combo, Mand'alor Din, Non-Explicit Sex, One Shot Collection, Semi-Public Sex, light degradation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcademiaCrypt/pseuds/AcademiaCrypt
Summary: A collection of oneshots in which Din is the King of Mandalore, and you are his lover.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	1. Summoned

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter provides a sort of back story, the others can be read in any order and contain no substantial plot, just the sexy times 😌

Palaces were supposed to be beautiful. 

Marble columns. Towering arches. Artwork donning the walls and woven into the building itself, intricate architecture that dazzled the eyes, left you envious of the one who lived everyday amongst such beauty. Perhaps a garden, and greenery dotting the inside. 

Apparently, the Mandalorians hadn’t received that memo.

The “palace” you were currently being led through felt more like a prison. Perhaps a comfortable prison, but a prison nonetheless. Everything, from the walls to the floors, was black or gray or silver. The doorways were nothing more than rectangles carved sharply into plain walls. High ceilings held crisp lighting, illuminating the occasional “decorations” which consisted of ancient weapons or armor. You had never thought yourself a design critic, but damn. Would it kill them to use a little paint?

The Mandalorian leading you through the drab halls was no more intriguing, but just as silent. You tried your question of the hour for the twentieth time.

“Why am I here?”

Something like a sigh slipped through the helmet and you were shocked when an actual voice followed it. “They told you. The Mand’alor wants to see you.” 

By “they” you knew he meant the first two Mandalorians you’d encountered that day. They had pulled you from your work without anything resembling a pleasantry and demanded you follow them. When you refused without knowing why, they gave the same answer this one just provided: _The Mand’alor wants to see you._

The Mand’alor. You had met him. Sort of. You were on Mandalore for an assignment, a skill trade between them and your own people, as part of your new alliance with the warrior tribe. You and a handful of other soldiers were there to learn the techniques of their armorers, while a few Mandalorians were currently on your planet learning how to preserve and maintain long term food supplies. Skills you respectively lacked, and agreed to exchange as a gesture of good will. 

This sort of peaceful exchange with the Mandalorians was previously unheard of. But their new Mand’alor was proving to be more reasonable than his predecessors, and no one could argue with the mutual benefits. 

He had been there to meet your group when you first arrived. Standing tall between two other soldiers, he drew your gaze the moment the ship’s hatch dropped. His silver Beskar stood out amongst the blues and reds and greens of the others, thick black cape billowing near his ankles. Your breath had caught in your throat as you followed your comrades down the ramp.

When he spoke his voice was a warm rasp, welcoming you to Mandalore, letting you know how things would work, expressing his hope you would find your time there both educational and enjoyable. That had been the gist of it, at least. You had found yourself focusing on his broad stature and the velvety quality of his voice rather than the actual words it was saying. 

There was something about him. Something that stirred a foreign feeling deep in your gut, one you couldn’t put a name too. He had no face to speak of. Just a helmet and a wall of metal, stern and unyielding. No different than the dozens of other Mandalorians around him, aside from the color of his armor and the gold signet on his pauldron, marking him as Mand’alor. Still, curiosity sparked bright alongside the unknown feeling in your core. 

The second time you met him, he came to the armory. You saw him from the corner of your eye as you polished a Beskar pauldron. He was speaking to the armorer who had been your teacher for the past week, voices too far for you to hear. 

You looked back to your work. Before you could make any progress whatsoever, you felt the urge to look at him again. He was like a magnet, tugging incessantly at your gaze. This time, the armorer was gone and his T shaped visor was fixed directly on you. 

You knew your eyes must have grew and your cheeks turned red, but you managed to look away without making a sound. In your peripheral, you saw him stalking towards you and your heart took off like a speeder. He came to a stop on the other side of your work table, placing his gloved hands gently a top it. You looked back up.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. You looked at his visor and continued to absently shine the Beskar until your fingers came a gradual stop. 

“Should I…bow or something?” You asked quietly, and realized too late it probably sounded sarcastic, though you had intended it as a genuine question. All you knew about a Mand’alor was they were the sole ruler. The requirements of courtesy shown to them hadn’t been covered in your briefing, because it simply wasn’t known. 

Fortunately, he didn’t get angry. In fact, you almost thought the puff of air you heard sounded close to a laugh. 

“No.”

“…Ah.” You went quiet, more than a little nervous and lost. 

His helmet tilted and you felt like he was examining you. “What’s your name?”

Whiplash. No, kriffing _plasma bomb_ straight to your head. 

_Your name?_ What was your name? Absolutely zero training had prepared you for this scenario. Your commander told you you were going to Mandalore to learn about armor and keep your heads down. This alliance was new, and precarious. With so little known about Mandalorian culture and manners, you left with specific instructions to keep quiet and obey direction, as well as the promise that you likely wouldn’t run into anyone of consequence. 

And now the high ruler of the entire civilization had singled out _you_ of all people for some chit chat. You could practically feel the weight of impending war upon your shoulders. 

Scraping up your last ounce of courage, you told him your name, quietly. He repeated it, and the sound triggered warm vibrations through your body. 

He continued speaking. “Well…what do you think of Mandalore so far?”

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no- “It’s nice.”

His helmet tilted to the other side. You had a feeling he was smirking at you. “Hm. I suppose so. It’s always been a little hot for my taste.”

Your mouth nearly hit the floor and it took every muscle in your jaw to snap it shut. Was that a joke? Did the ruler of Mandalore just make a joke, to you, about his own planet? Should you laugh? 

You didn’t risk it. Instead you managed an awkward smile. He stood there a heart beat longer, still watching you. Something told you that eye contact was the better course here, so you watched him back. 

His next words flooded you with relief. “Nice meeting you.”

As abrupt as it was, something in his tone made you think it wasn’t rude in the slightest. You watched him leave. He walked to the next table, where your friend was working on her own piece of armor. 

Even more relief spread through your body. Ok, he was just doing this with everyone. Meeting the soldiers. Making polite small talk.

Except, the Mand’alor paused for barely a second in front of her, glanced at the armor she was working on, and kept walking. Never said a word. 

She looked to you with a panicked, confused smile. You returned it with a wide-eyed shrug, both of you turning to watch his retreating back. 

That was the last time you saw him. Now, it was a few weeks later, and you were walking through his cinder block of a home with no idea why. The place was enormous, and you were about to ask how much longer it would be, when the guard made a sudden right turn and you found yourself at the end of the hallway. A door, nondescript as the rest, stood in front of you.

“Wait here,” the guard ordered. 

He stepped forward and knocked. You didn’t hear an approval for entry but it must have been given, because the next second he opened the door and poked his armored head inside. You heard a handful of whispered words, _the girl_ and _tell her,_ among them. The guard pulled the door shut and turned back to you. 

“Alright. Go in.”

Then he walked away. You glanced frantically at the door, then turned to call after him, “ _What?_ What do you mean go in?”

He didn’t respond. Instead he turned the corner and you were alone. 

A door had never looked so terrifying. You knew who was behind it, which in this case made it worse. What did he _want?_

You had no choice. Either he’d get impatient and come looking for you, or you could try to leave and be brought right back by the guard. With a sigh, heavy steps finally carried you to the door. You considered knocking as the guard had done, then you remembered you were supposed to be following instructions. _Go in._

Stone and wood made for a heavy door. You pushed it slowly until there was just enough space to poke your upper body in. 

At first, you didn’t see the Mand’alor. You saw a throne, directly across from the entrance. It was simple like everything else in the building, high-backed and imposing. Two enormous mythosaur skulls hung on the wall on either side of it. The room was smaller than the others you’d been led through, and it didn’t take long to find the reason you were here. 

He stood to the side, in front of a huge fireplace. His back was to you, helmet tilted down toward the roaring flames. His normally metal body was bare of armor except for his helmet, long black cape swaying gently with the heat of the fire. When he spoke, he didn’t turn. “Come in.”

You obeyed. Slow, every movement tainted with fear. You shut the door behind you and immediately regretted it. Though you had a feeling he would have made you anyway. When you didn’t take another step, he finally turned around. 

“Have a seat,” he offered, firm but polite as he gestured to the couch across from the fireplace. You wanted to ask a million questions but your heart was pumping too hard to allow your mind to focus on anything but obedience. Obedience was safe. 

You did manage to take in the rest of the room as you made your way to him. The side where he stood held the fireplace, a low table, and the plush looking couch that was your final destination. On the other side of the throne was a long table against the wall, a few platters of what you assumed were fruit, and glass bottles of liquid. You guessed it to be a sort of secondary, informal throne room. Apparently for entertaining guests, if that was indeed what you were. 

Your legs trembled as you took a seat at the very end of the couch, ankles crossed, hands folded in your lap. The Mand’alor looked at you, and made a warm, deep sound that took you a few moments to recognize as a chuckle. 

“You’re nervous,” he observed.

You wanted to laugh. Sharp and bitter. You wanted to throw your hands in the air and yell _ya, no shit!_ Instead, you nodded. 

“Why?”

That single dumb ass question siphoned enough of your nerves to allow you to sigh, exasperated. “Well, I have just been mysteriously summoned by the overlord of Mandalore,” you gritted, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm from showing. 

He chuckled again, and the sound did something to do you didn’t like. Or rather, you didn’t like how much you _did_ like it. “I’d call it an invitation.”

You rolled your eyes. “Invitation implies I have a choice. Your guards gave me no such thing.”

He cocked his head at that. “Did they scare you?”

His tone made you pause. It was softer, and genuine. “Well…no, not really. I mean - I didn’t think they’d hurt me, or anything. It was just surprising.”

He hummed, seemingly content with this. When he didn’t say anything else, you tilted your head forward with an expectant look. “So… _are_ you going to tell me why I’m here?”

“What do you think?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you think you’re here?”

This time, you did toss your hands up. A brief flop against your thighs. “I have no idea. That’s why I’m asking.”

He hummed again, and you recognized a trace of amusement. Rather than answer your question, he nodded to the low table between you where two bottles of unfamiliar liquid and glasses sat. “Drink?”

Your shoulders fell with utter confusion. “I…what?”

“Do you want a drink?” He repeated. “Narcolethe. Or shig, if you don’t like alcohol.”

You looked down at the glasses, then back up at him. You were confused. With every passing second your nerves were leaving, replaced gradually with anger at being denied an explanation. 

However, you had also never had Mandalorian Narcolethe, and heard it was amazing. With another sigh you leaned back against the couch. “What the hell. Sure.”

You couldn’t see the smile tugging his lips beneath the helmet. He took a step forward. “Which one?”

“Narcolethe.”

Another smile, and he uncapped the bottle, filling one of the glasses halfway with a white, murky liquid. The presence of a second glass didn’t escape your notice, yet he made no move to fill it. 

You wondered where Mandos stood on removing their helmets these days. You’d met some who wouldn’t take it off for anything, others who escaped it at every opportunity. The Creed had, as a whole, been making strides in the development of both their off-world relations, and their own belief system in recent years. You wondered which side of the spectrum their Mand’alor clung to. Did his people simply have no idea what their ruler looked like? Recognized him from a suit of armor and remarkably trimmed waist? You’d seen other Mandos take their helmets off since being here. Did they each get to choose, or did the man in front of you set the standard? 

When he handed you the glass you noticed that his hands were bare. The first piece of his skin you’d seen. Thick fingers and wide palm, rough from decades of battles yet gentle as they reached toward you. Your fingers brushed and you ignored the heat that sprouted instantly, crawling up your arm like an infection. 

You sipped the drink. Immediately, your mouth and throat burned and you let out a sputtering cough. Your eyes watered and your face heated as you held the glass out, far away from you.

“Holy-“ you rasped, interrupted by another cough. “Sh- Maker, that’s-“ you struggled through a sting of sputters as you set the glass down. 

“Sorry,” he said calmly, though you could have swore his voice held laughter around the edges. “I should have warned you, it's rather strong.”

“No-kidding,” you rasped. 

He picked up your discarded glass and stepped around the couch. “Here…” 

You turned and watched him walk to the long table on the other side of the room. He dumped the Narcolethe into a bin and grabbed another bottle before rejoining you in front of the fire. This time the liquid he poured was dark, and thicker. “Try this one,” he said, handing you the glass. 

You accepted it, but stared at him suspiciously. The warm chuckle returned. “It’s not as strong, promise.”

You raised the glass to your lips, watching him the whole time. The taste that hit your tongue was sweet, and potent. Your throat could actually handle it and you took a long draft before lowering the glass. 

“Better?”

“Better.”

He seemed pleased. Of course, you had no real indication of that other than the way his shoulders rolled back slightly and the faint hum he gave. His gentle, welcoming demeanor was filling you with as much curiosity as it was boldness. At length, you spoke again, 

“Do you always make your guests drink alone?”

His hesitation was so brief you almost didn’t notice it. The tiniest stutter in his movements, a dip in his posture. 

Then his hands were coming up to slip his helmet off. 

One smooth movement and the black slit you had nearly come to recognize as a face was being lifted, set aside on the mantel. 

And Maker, you didn’t know what you had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He was handsome. But that was putting it plainly. He was handsome in a way you hadn’t seen before. Rugged and unique features, with eyes that didn’t match the fierceness of his scruff covered jaw. They harbored softness in their depths, the look of a man who had held onto kindness despite a life that should have made him otherwise. Your heart began to thump again, forgetting that you were supposed to be angry. 

He removed it with such ease once you said something, you wondered if that’s exactly what he’d been waiting for. An indication that you wanted him to. He gave you a smile as he set it aside and poured his own drink. 

“I guess you guys aren’t strict on the helmet thing anymore, huh?”

His smile grew. “Depending on the company, no.”

The company. You. You were the company. You were the company of the Mand’alor and you still had no idea why. You watched as he leaned against the mantel and took a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving you. The fire crackled behind him, his shadow obscuring you from its light. 

Silence tethered between you and you allowed it. Allowed him to indulge in a few more sips before making another attempt at getting answers.

“So is this why you brought me here?” You relaxed your posture, leaning against the couch and spreading one arm across the back of it. “To be your new drinking buddy?”

The breath he released was a cross between a hum and a laugh. Gentle, and rolling. “No…” he took another drink, mouth lingering on the glass as he watched you. When he finished he licked his lips before speaking, 

“I think you know exactly why you’re here.”

You did. His halfway-confirmation wasn’t as surprising as it should have been. Truthfully, the thought had struck the back of your mind the second he offered you a drink. You had pushed it away, pending further evidence before delving into everything the concept made you feel. Now the evidence was here, and your mind and heart were competing to see which could race faster. 

“I do?” You managed to keep your tone level. A curious, prodding inquiry.

“Mmmhm.”

Maker, that sound did things to you.

He’d never know it from the smirk on your face. You were used to acting cool under pressure, but this was something new entirely. The King of Mandalore had basically just admitted...what? That he liked you? It sounded ridiculous. Juvenile. It was probably better to say he just wanted to sleep with you. 

You were simultaneously intrigued and repulsed and you weren’t sure which was stronger because both of them were clouded by uncertainty. You didn’t know what to think yet, about any of it. You threw a subconscience glance to the door. 

“I see…” you took a drink. Cleared your throat. It was quiet for another beat. “Then what happens now?”

He smirked and shrugged. “You tell me.”

You gave a short, incredulous laugh, shaking your head slightly. Nerves disappeared and were quickly replaced with anger. You had seen men with his level of power do this sort of thing before, and it disgusted you just as much now as it did then. You sat up straight, with a sneer that told him as much.

“I’m just guessing I’m gonna have to sleep with you or else…oh, I don’t know, our skill trade is off? Maybe our whole alliance? Sound about right?” 

He cocked his head at you, eyes narrowed, still smirking. “Wrong.”

Your lip curled, pure attitude. “Wrong?”

“Wrong,” he repeated. Then nodded at the door. “You can walk out of here any time you like. No one will stop you. And nothing will come of it.” 

Your stare was nothing but suspicion as you looked at him, then glanced at the door. “You expect me to believe that if I reject you to your face right now, you’re not gonna do a damn thing about it?”

His smile morphed into a grin and he took another drink before answering you. “Not a thing.”

The air went quiet. You looked at the door one more time before facing him. One by one, every nerve in your body froze and rooted firmly to the Mand’alor’s couch. He watched you expectantly for several long moments.

“Well? Go on then,” he prodded, jerking his head toward the door. 

You didn’t move. With the knowledge that absolutely nothing held you here, there was suddenly nowhere in the universe you’d rather be. His newly revealed face held your rapt attention, anger and uncertainty seeping from your body with every second those deep brown eyes met yours. 

He raised his eyebrows. “Go.”

You still didn’t move. He continued to watch you, waiting patiently. You met his gaze with wide eyes, cheeks pink and lips agape. Gradually, his expectant stare became a knowing smile, and he slowly set his drink down on the mantel. 

His eyes didn’t leave you for a moment as he stepped around the opposite side of the table, taking a seat on the far end of the couch. He was large. Imposing and alluring all at once. He angled his body toward you, legs spread, shoulders back. _Arrogant._ Arrogant and probably the most attractive thing you’d ever seen. 

“Come here,” he purred, voice like honey. 

You were a puppet and his words were the string. You crossed the space between you without hesitation, settling next to him but keeping your hands to yourself as the proximity brought your nerves back in full force. His eyes climbed slowly up and down your body. One of his arms was stretched behind your head, the other moving to bring his hand to your face. 

His fingertips grazed your jaw, featherlight. You inhaled sharply. 

“You’re nervous again,” he remarked softly, gaze full of warmth and something else you recognized but were too scared to acknowledge. “Do I frighten you, little one?”

You swallowed and shook your head. _He_ didn’t frighten you. Not anymore. But the ravenous fire spreading in your bones certainly did. 

His fingers pressed more firmly against your jaw before sliding down to your throat. “Is it alright if I touch you like this?”

_Maker,_ that voice. 

You nodded. He smiled. His fingers continued to drag softly up and down your neck before returning to your jaw. Your arms stayed dead at your sides. You closed your eyes and mentally screamed at yourself to get it together. His touch felt so _good._ Warm and soft and reverent. He was the ruler of an entire planet and he touched you as though it was _his_ honor. 

When his fingertips finally reached your lips your eyes opened. He was looking at your mouth, two fingers running softly back and forth across the plump flesh. In a split second decision you opened your lips and caught his digits between them. 

His eyes widened a fraction and he looked up at you, jaw going slack. The reaction was enough to boost your confidence and you took his fingers in down to the knuckle, sucking lightly. He let out a shaky breath, watching you.

You held him there, tasting his flesh thoroughly as you looked him in the eye. When your tongue pushed between his fingers his eyes fluttered closed and a smile curled the corner of his mouth.

“There you are,” he breathed. “No reason to be nervous with me, little one.” 

You let out a small, muted moan and his eyes shot open, full of hunger. He pulled his fingers from your mouth with an audible _pop,_ bringing his lips forward instead. He paused there, breath hot on your face, lips poised above yours, and you knew he was giving you one last chance to pull away.

Instead, you moved in. 

The Mand’alor’s moan was swallowed by you, latching onto his perfect mouth. His tongue tasted even better than his fingers as it pushed against yours. One hand was firm on your neck, the other slipping into your hair. He was firm and intense, claiming your lips with a fiery passion you endeavored to match. 

The sound of needy breaths filled the air as he pulled back to suck on your lips, then your tongue, again and again. Soon his mouth retraced the path of his fingers, down your jaw and throat, tongue darting out to taste you. You sighed near his ear, trying in vain to angle your lips in a way to touch him, instead left panting against his hair. 

There wasn’t enough of him touching you. He was still just next to you on the couch, mouth sucking your throat, hands climbing down your back, and it wasn’t enough. Without disturbing his work on your throat, you rose up to straddle him. He moaned his approval as your knees came to rest on either side of his hips, grinding down and enjoying the firmness that greeted you. 

“There you go little one,” he panted, hands finding your hips to bring you down harder against him. His mouth ventured lower on your chest, tugging your clothes as he spoke. “I knew you weren’t shy, were you? Just needed-“ he hissed as your hips suddenly jutted up hard and fast, “n-needed a break. Needed to relax. You’ve worked so hard…”

“You don’t even know that,” you argued through a smile, continuing to grind on him as your hands slipped beneath his shirt. “You’re not there. You don’t see me. I could be a-” it was your turn to hiss as his wandering hand found the space between your thighs, “a slacker for all you know.” 

He leaned his head back, eyes closed. His broad hands slipped around your body until they cupped your behind, squeezing firmly. “I’m around more than you think little one. Saw you. More than you think.”

You tugged the cape from his shoulders before pulling his shirt up and over his head. His hands left you briefly to allow it, then quickly did the same to you, fingers worshipping every inch of your skin along the way. “Sounds like you were being creepy.” 

He laughed, then groaned when your lips slid down his heaving chest. “Just keeping an eye on you. Making sure I could- nnngh- t-trust you. Bring you here.”

“Oh yeah?” Your hands started work on his belt, the large Mudhorn buckle proving to be an obstacle. “And what would have been a deal breaker?”

For a moment his only answer was a set of deep breaths as your deft fingers worked toward their goal. “Maker, I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve wanted you so badly, I don’t know, I-“

Your hand finally found the space to slip beneath his belt and you palmed at him gently. A ragged gasp tore from his throat. His eyes shot open with new fire and suddenly he was grabbing your arms and shoving you back into the couch as he climbed on top of you, settling his body between your legs.

His mouth was hot and soft as it wandered down your chest, licking and sucking his way to your waistline. You gasped and panted the only thing resembling a name you had for him, “Mando-”

He moaned against your stomach. Then seemed to pause, lingering on a spot just above your navel, lips absently kissing there over and over as he considered something.

Finally he whispered, “Din...”

“Hm?” You glanced down at him, dreamy eyed. 

He looked up, lips slightly swollen and red. “My name is Din.”

“Din…” you tried it out, liking the way it sounded. 

He hummed, then turned his attention back to your stomach, dragging his lips down past your navel. “Use it,” he growled, “Say my name when I make you feel good.” You moaned sharply as he sucked a sensitive spot just beneath the edge of your pants. “Understand?” He said, moving to bite your hip. 

He was being so very… the only word you could think of was _Mand’alor._ And you loved it. 

“Yes,” you said breathily, “Yes Din.”

“Good.”

You lost count of how many times you said his name that night. 

He said yours just as much, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good to see the high ruler of Mandalore reduced to a whimpering mess because of you. He mumbled and moaned constantly as your bodies moved together, breathing praises and pleas into your ear. He practically worshipped you with tongue and touch, searching your eyes for approval before each new exploration and taking with reverent greed the moment it was granted. 

Normally you didn’t tend to be vocal, but something about the sounds tumbling from his lips and the sensations he burned on your body made you echo him each time. 

He was slow. Thorough. Left you feeling full and wrecked and sated. When he finally came undone he did nothing but babble through his grunts, promises, expletives, adoration. 

By the time you fell asleep, he was still whispering to you.

~

Hours into the night, Din collapsed next to you for the third time, panting heavily. The first time you fell asleep on the couch, you had woke up in his bed. It was all a blur from there. 

Seeking him out in the darkness. Encouraging his touch down your body. Mumbling sweet nothings against his hot skin until he was once again a pleading puddle at your mercy. 

Mand’alor. Warrior. Begging for you. 

He reached for you in the aftermath, bringing your head up to rest on his chest. You wrapped your arms around him and let out a satisfied sigh. 

“You’re so perfect, little one,” he said.

You smiled against him and would have rolled your eyes had they been open. Your next words just sort of...slipped. “Sure. I bet that’s what you tell all the girls you swindle into this bed.” 

It was light hearted, but you were only half joking. It didn’t necessarily bother you, but you weren’t foolish enough to believe you were the only one to have received such an invitation.

A chuckle vibrated his chest. “Well…not that it matters…but I don’t _actually_ make this a habit.”

You simply hummed, and let that part of the conversation die, not eager to explore it further. 

Instead you broached something else you weren’t eager for. “I should…probably go soon...”

“Why?”

“It’s almost morning. They’ll wonder where I am.”

“No,” he argued, hugging you tighter. “If anyone asks, they’ll be informed you’re my guest.”

You gave a short laugh and raised your head to look at him. “And what if they ask why?”

He sighed. “They shouldn’t. One answer should be enough. But if they’re truly dumb enough to pry, that’s the only answer they’ll get. My guards were told you’re to be my guest, and that’s what they’ll say.”

Your forehead dropped back onto his chest with a groan. “Everyone’s gonna know I slept with you.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t know, it’s…it’s…”

“Are you ashamed to have lain with the Mand’alor?” 

His words sent a shudder down your spine and you raised your head. “No…I definitely wouldn’t say that. But it’s also none of their business.” 

Din smiled and ran a gentle hand through your hair. “Don’t worry about them. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of it. No one’s going to bother you.” His voice was soothing and exactly what you needed. You knew your face was melting into the most pitiful smile but you didn’t even care. “Are you tired?” He asked gently. 

You shrugged. “Not really anymore.”

His fingertips massaged your scalp. “Join me for a bath?” 

His tone was sweet, the opposite one would expect from such power. You bit your lip and nodded. Honestly, you had expected to be sent away the moment he was done with you. The attention, while unexpected, was not at all unwelcome. 

At your acceptance Din scooted up and leaned over to tap a communicator on his nightstand. “E19,” he snapped. 

The artificial voice of a droid answered him, “Yes sir?”

“Ready a bath please.”

“Right away sir.”

“Thank you.”

He snuggled back into you, and you whiled away the next few minutes with soft, tender touches. 

The bath was huge, and hot. Din kept you close, massaging your muscles and lathering your body with his soap. You did the same to him, attempting to conceal the giddy feeling bubbling in your chest. You weren’t entirely sure if you believed him, but the _thought_ that you were the only one to experience this was intoxicating. Skin that almost no one had seen, the skin of the most powerful man in the sector, wet and soapy beneath your fingers, its owner smiling and whimpering at your touch. 

His gentleness surprised you, given his rough, needy passion last night. Then again, he had ensured your comfort and consent the whole time, so maybe it wasn’t surprising. The Mand’alor seemed to to have a habit of not meeting your expectations in the best way. 

After both of you were clean and rinsed, you fell into his arms and let him hold you for a long time. You thought about how much it was going to suck to have to leave now. You were due back at home in three days, ready to pass your newfound knowledge on to your entire unit. Unfortunately, you were pretty sure all your knowledge of armor had been replaced by knowledge of the Mand’alor’s body. 

As if reading your mind, he spoke, “You…don’t have to leave, you know…”

His voice sounded louder than it really was in the silence and your head snapped up. Had you been speaking out loud? No, you were sure you hadn’t.

“What?”

“If you’d like to stay,” he explained softly, “You can.”

Your shoulders dropped with a sigh. “No, I…I can’t. I’m expected to return-“

“I want you to stay,” he said firmly. “And if you want to stay too, I can make it happen.”

You gave him a long suffering look. “The things I’ve learned are a part of our treaty, I’m supposed to go back and teach my people. You’d be breaking your end of the deal.”

He considered this for a moment, lips pursed. Then, with an air of finality, “I’ll send one of our armorers in your place. They can teach your people.”

Your heart dropped like a stone and your mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’d seriously do that?”

He smiled, slow and meaningful. “To keep you here longer? Absolutely.”

His hands tightened around you and the water splashed as he pulled you onto his lap, stroking your thighs softly as he looked down your body, taking you in slowly before looking into your eyes once more. “What do you say, little one? Want to be my plaything for a little while longer?”

Something like butterflies, but stronger, thumped inside your chest. You bit down a grin and nodded, slowly. Din’s face lit up and his chin tilted, glancing at your lips. You leaned down to kiss him, taste the gorgeous smile on his scruffy face-

Just as your lips brushed, there was a frantic pounding on the door. Din huffed and pulled away, glancing over your shoulder.

“What!?” He shouted. 

“Sir I-“ the voice hesitated, barely audible through the thick stone. “May I come in?”

“Fine,” he snapped back. 

“Din!” You gasped, wide eyed. You sunk lower in the water and pressed your chest against him just as you heard the door open. 

“Sir.” Surprisingly, whoever it was didn’t miss a beat, “The senator is on comms, he’s asked to speak with you, he says it’s an emergency.” 

Din’s head rolled back against the tub with a sigh. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”

A few seconds passed and you heard the door shut. You pulled back and smacked Din’s chest. He looked at you in genuine surprise.

“Why did you let him in? I’m naked!”

“And you’re amazing at it,” he praised, gently moving you off his lap and turning around. 

You watched him through narrowed eyes as he climbed out of the tub, water splashing across the floor. His shoulders rippled with the movement and you took the time to appreciate a view you hadn’t received the night before. He grabbed a towel and began drying himself off. 

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, securing the towel around his waist, “Make yourself at home. Let E19 know if you need anything,” he leaned his hands against the edge of the tub and bent down to bring his face close to yours, “And when I’m done, we’ll pick up where we left off. Sound good?”

You were embarrassed at how quickly your anger disappeared. The smile on your face was uncontrollable as you leaned up to accept his kiss. “Yeah…”

He gave you one last long, lingering look before turning and disappearing into the bedroom. Grin still plastered across your face, you sunk back into the water up to your nose, tummy already tight and skin hot in anticipation of the touch of the Mand’alor. 


	2. Dismissed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The throne has a new occupant.

Mandalore was a hot planet.

Rarely comfortably so. Your home world was far more balanced, with brisk winters and warm summers. These constant days of sweltering heat were torture. But according to all reliable sources, Mandalore would stay at this same dry, unbearable temperature for the foreseeable future. It made your skin itch just to think about it. On more than one occasion, you thought briefly about leaving this glorified oven. Heading somewhere you could put all your cute winter clothes to good use.

You wouldn’t, though. In fact, you couldn’t see yourself having a real desire to leave Mandalore anytime soon. All thanks to the man who’s throne you were currently spread upon, thin and minimal clothes on your body as the cool metal surface worked against the heat of the air. You loved sitting here. Loved seeing the look on his face when he walked in and saw you. Loved everything he’d do to you in the moments following.

Should be any minute now, actually. You glanced to the clock on the wall. His schedule was usually unreliable at best, but today happened to be briefing day. A monthly meeting consisting of nothing but hours of slow talking generals and meaningless status updates. You knew Din would bring everything to a close exactly on time and not a second later.

He’d walk through those huge double doors right across from you, decked in shiny silver Beskar, gold mudhorn on his shoulder, guards on his flank. You smiled and turned on the throne, draping your legs over the armrest as you thought about him. The way he’d stalk up to you, dismiss the guards, and you wouldn’t see the lust in his eyes until he ripped the helmet off. Then, depending on the state of his mood, he’d either strip that armor off in a hurry, or just leave it on…

The doors shifted with a telltale groan. You smirked and rolled your head to the side, watching the sliver of light between them grow as they opened. Soon the familiar silver sheen of your lover came into view, heavy and confident steps carrying him over the threshold. Maker, even his walk was delectable. Next to him you recognized Paz, Kit, and-

Uh oh. A new guard. This should be interesting.

Din saw you first, you knew. His chin tilted up and you could tell he was smiling at you beneath the helmet. Directly next to and behind him, you saw the newbie’s helmet also jerk up in surprise. You wished Din would somehow fill these poor boys in on who you were, before these types of situations came up.

The next three events occurred simultaneously. Newbie let out a cry of surprise at the sight of you, lounging about where, to his knowledge, only one man on the planet was allowed to be. He drew his blaster in a flash, pointing it towards you. You didn’t flinch, knowing it was only an empty threat, and it would be stopped in about two seconds anyway. Paz and Kit, looking up at his cry, saw you and immediately sprung forward, reaching for Newbie and his misdirected blaster,

Just as Din’s wrist shot up like lightning, igniting the saber in his hand and slicing the boy’s blaster in two before anyone could blink.

The useless weapon clattered to the floor, metallic ping echoing off the high ceilings. Paz and Kit had reached him one second too late, hands on shoulders and pulling him back. Din’s head snapped to the side, staring over the black blade between them.

Newbie’s chest heaved, shock and adrenaline. “Sir…I…” he gestured to you with the half weapon in his hand. “She…”

“Is allowed to be wherever she wishes,” Din finished, voice sharp.

You sighed softly, feeling bad for the guard. He was only trying to do his job. It wasn’t his fault the Mand’alor was bad about informing people he had a lover wandering around the palace, who was allowed to do things anyone else would be executed for.

“Out,” Din snapped.

Dazed and confused, the guard obeyed, Paz and Kit guiding him gently out the door. As usual, they would be the ones to fill in the clueless newbie. You just hoped that if they ever felt irritated, they directed it at their overlord, and not you, the innocent bystander.

The door creaked shut and you were alone with the Mand’alor. His armor clinked as he approached and you straightened on his throne, crossing your legs.

“You should be easier on them,” you chided gently as he reached you. “It’s not their fault they don’t know who I am.”

Din merely grunted in acknowledgement as he removed his helmet and set it on the floor. You leaned back as he towered over you, his arm coming up to brace against the back of the throne.

“Perhaps you should stop being such a little troublemaker,” he countered.

“Nooow,” you cooed, smiling slyly and eyeing him up and down as you drew your knee up, rubbing pointedly against his crotch. Din’s eyes widened. “What fun would that be? Hmm?”

He didn’t answer, attention effectively redirected. You grinned and removed your knee, making as though you were going to replace it with your palm, but stopping short. Din looked down at you, eyes dark, and you smiled innocently.

“My King,” you whispered, voice smooth and sultry, fingers wiggling just out of reach of where he needed you. “Would you allow…a poor, lowly troublemaker…the great honor of helping you relax, after such a tedious day?”

He groaned. You raised your brows in inquiry and reached your other hand around to grab the back of his thigh, watching the rising tension beneath his zipper.

“Hmm?” What’s that My King?” You moved your hand against the air above him, in the motions that would satisfy his burning if only it was on him instead. “May I please, _please_ touch you My Lord? My Mand’alor?”

Din glared at you with a long suffering grin. “Shut up.”

Another feigned, scandalized gasp left your lips. You pulled your hand away from him to place it dramatically over your heart. His hips stuttered forward on reflex, chasing your touch. “My King, have I offended you?”

He loved to hate your teasing. Soaking up every second of it, never quite able to loosen up enough to actually play along. You didn’t mind. Watching him get so worked up and flustered only added to your own enjoyment.

You scooted up to bring your legs beneath you and stood up on his throne. The height brought you almost a head taller than him, your chest squarely in front of his face. You draped your arms over his shoulders and arched your back toward him.

“How ever can I make it up to you sire?”

His eyes darted over your chest, down the thin fabric covering your frame. “What are you wearing under that?”

“Guess.”

With a primal growl, Din grabbed your waist and whipped you around, taking you off the throne and turning to seat himself on it. He brought you down on top, yanking your hips up to straddle him.

“You wanna make it up to me, huh? Temptress?” He whispered through clenched teeth.

You nodded innocently and he reached up to grab your jaw, bringing your face to his. He paused to look in your eyes, and you could see the affection hidden in those chocolate colored depths, the softness he disguised in rough and empty words.

He didn’t lean up when he kissed you. Instead he pulled you down, making you bend to suit him. His tongue immediately slithered into your mouth, demanding and possessive. Your own attempted to meet him but he pushed it back, taking. When he pulled away his lip was curled in the faintest snarl.

“Get to work then,” he growled, with a meaningful tug on your hips.

You complied, slowly rolling your hips up to grind against him. His reaction was immediate, already tense from your relentless teasing, his head falling back with a hiss.

“Mmm, my King is needy today,” you whispered, breath hitching with the effort and pleasure of your movement.

His head snapped back up, eyes narrowed. “You’re one to talk, with all the begging you did last night.”

“Me?” You fluttered your lashes at him, hastening your thrusts. “I did no such thing.”

He laughed, sharply and without humor. “Oh yes you did. How did you put it?” He reached around to place a hand on your lower back, pushing you harder against him. _“Oh please, please sir.”_ His voice was small and meek in his mockery of you. His hips jerked up hard to meet yours. _“Please give it to me, I’ll do anything. Anything. Just please-_ ahhah!”

He cut himself off with a gasp as your palm finally found him, firm and merciless. You puckered your lips at him in a sweet little pout.

“I’m sorry, what was that sire?” You cooed.

“Vixen,” he spat, eyes cold as a snake, smiling.

“Brute,” you taunted back.

Then his hands were on your clothes, tugging hard. “Get this off before I tear it in two.”

“Yes sir,” you breathed, pulling it down your shoulders. Then, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, “My needy little King.”

Din’s eyes were fire as he growled up at you, his own hands working furiously to free himself of his pants, and you could tell from the look on his face that he was going to make you pay dearly for each little quip you spoke.

Your top was down your shoulders, caught on your elbows, and Din stared hungrily at your newly exposed chest. He licked his lips and you sat up a little higher in anticipation, welcoming the touch you knew was coming. He leaned down, mouth closing in on the peak of his target-

Just at the doors once again creaked open.

Din’s head snapped up, pure rage on his face, and you sighed. Granted, people shouldn’t _have_ to knock in areas that were technically public domain, but you’d thought they would have learned by now. The King was not shy about bringing his lover outside the bedroom.

“Paz!” Din barked as you pulled your top back over your chest. “Out!”

“I know, sir, I’m sorry,” the guard said frantically, “It’s just-“

“Out!”

“The King of Ored is here!” Paz spat out rapidly.

Din frowned. “Our meeting isn’t until tomorrow.”

You turned in his lap, settling on one of his thighs and leaning against his chest with a sigh. So many names, snapped back and forth in this palace, none of them meaning a single thing to you except that they were obstacles to the object of your lust.

“I know,” Paz was saying apologetically. “But he’s shown up today. I believe it’s simply an attempt at control…” he hesitated, shuffling slightly on his feet, “But the advisors and I agree it would be in our best interests for you to see him now.”

Din groaned, his displeasure no secret. But his resigned sigh told you you wouldn’t be getting what you desired just yet.

“Helmet,” Din snapped, gesturing to his discarded armor on the floor. Paz immediately stepped forward and picked it up, handing it to him.

“I suppose I’ll wait for you in the bedroom,” you sighed, moving to slide off his lap. But Din’s hand tightened at your waist.

“You will stay right here,” he ordered, slipping his helmet over his head and replacing his warm voice with cold modulation.

“But-“

“Hush,” he snapped, grip tightening so hard it was almost painful.

Paz sighed as he left to collect the other King, obviously displeased with the situation, but wise enough to keep it to himself. You shifted on Din’s lap to get comfortable for what was no doubt going to be a long and boring conversation. As you did so, you noticed something hard was still pressing into your thigh. You turned to him with a wicked smile.

“Oh I see,” you whispered, moving against him very intentionally. “You just need me to hide you, hm?”

“Quiet,” he rumbled.

“Of course sir,” you said seriously, still moving your thigh against him. Draping your legs just so, you realized you could continue to rub on him, and as long as you kept your movements small, no one in the room would be the wiser. “I would hate to make this any harder than it needs to be for you.”

His visor snapped up to look at you, and you knew he was glaring. But just then the doors opened, admitting a short and pompous looking little man with his entourage, and Din couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

You smiled happily, leaned back against your King, and settled in for an interesting meeting.


	3. Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King reveals one of his fantasies.

White ecstasy pulsed hot through your body, curling deep from your center, all the way to your fingertips. 

It didn’t stop. You panted and keened, arched and gripped. Wave after wave crashed over you until the pressure causing such painful bliss disappeared. Din’s head rose from between your thighs, a triumphant smirk on his face. 

“There’s my good girl,” he praised, licking his lips clean as he watched you squirm beneath him. 

Your body felt like a giant weight, immovable. A dip in the mattress and you pried your eyes open just enough to see Din crawl up and settle next you on the plush, enormous bed. He propped his head on his hand and stared at you lovingly. You placed a palm on his scruffy cheek, noting the way his facial hair still glistened. 

“I never knew my King was so talented,” you said, still out of breath. 

The corner of his mouth curled in a warm smile. “I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises, love.” He trailed his fingertips up the bare skin of your stomach, stopping at your rib cage to rub lightly back and forth. 

“Oh?” You perked up, intrigued. “And what other secrets have you been hiding from me?”

He shook his head with a chuckle, running his thumb down your lips. “All in good time.” 

You scrunched your face in determination, leaning up to push him back against the bed. Din let out a small _oof_ and smiled curiously as you crawled a top him. “Come on. Just tell me one.” 

He made a show of drawing his lips in tight, shaking his head. You gave him a devilish grin and began dragging your hand slowly down his body. “Please my Lord?” 

“Nuh uh.”

With a scowl, your fingertips found the waistband of his soft pants and slipped beneath it. Din’s jaw clenched as you began toying with him. Expertly, torturously. 

“Just one little thing,” you crooned in his ear, “If they’re half as interesting as your hidden talent I know I’ll love them.” 

“In...time.” He struggled out.

Your grip tightened. “Come now...let me guess what surprises lie in store...another hidden talent perhaps?”

His answer was a drawn out groan. You nodded thoughtfully, fingertips dancing over his soft skin. “Hmm...maybe an affinity you have yet to reveal?”

A punch of air, brief and harsh.

You brought your mouth down to tickle his ear as you spoke. “Or perhaps...a _desire_ you have yet to reveal? Hm?”

Din’s lip curled, growing frustrated with your feather touches and teasing. 

“What do you want my love?” You asked sweetly, honey voice at odds with your viper actions. 

“You know what I want,” he growled, hips lifting at the same time you pulled your hand back, denying what he sought. 

“No,” you argued softly. “I mean something you haven’t told me…” you began peppering his neck with delightfully soft kisses, “What is it you desire, my King?” 

“You,” he whined, hips still bucking lightly in a futile attempt to get you to work harder. 

“I know that,” you said dismissively, lightening your touch even more and drawing a whimper from the Mand’alor. “I mean something you want to do to me. Don’t you have any fantasies Din?” 

He didn’t answer, jaw clenched tight, eyes burning, and you knew you had him. 

“There _is_ ,” your grip finally tightened and he hissed. “Tell me.”

Din groaned, lost to your touch, and you took your hand away entirely to make him focus. His eyes snapped open, frowning. 

“Tell me what you want,” you pleaded. “I’ll do it.”

His chest rumbled beneath you with a deep chuckle. “You can’t say that until you know what it is.” 

“Ooooh my King,” you cooed, leaning down to nibble his ear before whispering, “Haven’t you figured out by now, I’ll let you do anything you want to me?” 

You felt him twitch at that, and you grinned at him. This feeling of power would never grow old. It was intoxicating, the way you could bring such a powerful man down with nothing but your touch, or lack thereof. You liked it when he played dominant, bending you to his will, using you as his little plaything. But it was no secret who was truly in control. 

“Tell me,” you commanded once again. 

This time the words tumbled from his mouth, impossible to stop even if he’d tried. 

“I want to have you in every room in this palace.” 

Your mouth popped open, face lighting up. “Really?”

He nodded, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of your head and pull your face close to his. “I want to hear the way your moans echo off each of the walls. Hear you cry my name at every ceiling. Mess every surface with the stain of our passion.” 

Your lips closed slowly, meeting the lap of your tongue. Your hips unconsciencely rolled against his body, seeking a friction his words had stoked a sudden and burning need for. “Let’s do it,” you whispered urgently. 

He cocked a brow. “What, now?”

“Now.” You sat up, pulling him with you. “Where first? We’ve done the throne room, second throne room, fresher-”

“Goodness,” Din chuckled, surrendering to your pull as he slipped off the bed. “If I’d known you were so eager I would have suggested it a long time ago.” 

“Well, now you know not to hide things from me,” you countered, grabbing a thin robe and slipping it on. You took his hand in both of yours, leading him out backwards. “ _Where first_?”

Din flashed you a smile and returned your grip on his hand, stepping around you to take the lead and tug you out the door.

“Kitchen.”

The halls were unlit and abandoned in the dark of night, cool stone on your bare feet. You followed behind Din’s broad form as he led you, something like electricity bouncing across your skin. Your already thick arousal increased with every step.

At the door to the kitchen, Din turned to push it open with his back, pulling you to him at the same time. His eager mouth swallowed your giggles as you turned into the room together. He walked you backwards and you held tightly onto his neck as he advanced, steps clumsy, waiting to bump into a countertop and let him ravish you on it. 

Before you bumped into anything however, Din suddenly stopped, head jerking up. You opened your eyes and frowned in confusion when you saw him staring behind your head, brow furrowed, mouth dropped. You turned to follow his gaze.

The center of the kitchen housed an enormous table, long and wide to allow the many cooks room to work. At the far end of it stood one of the night guards, a cookie raised halfway to his mouth, his helmet sitting next to a glass of light blue milk on the tabletop. His wide eyes were glued to both of you, mouth still agape for the cookie that had yet to reach it. You turned away quickly, biting down a smile. 

The two men stared each other down just long enough for the silence to get awkward. Neither of them moved a muscle. Then, Din spoke.

“Get out.”

His tone was surprisingly neutral, lacking the rough command you’d grown used to. It was a simple, straight forward order. Not unkind, but non negotiable. 

You turned again and saw the guard shove the entire cookie in his mouth, grab the remaining sleeve, tuck his helmet under his arm, take his milk, and hurry out the opposite door. As soon as it shut, Din was back on you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh against his mouth as your ass finally found a place on the table. “They’re gonna...get...sick of us,” you mumbled between kisses.

“Let them,” he growled, dragging his lips hot and wet down your neck. “What are they going to do?” 

Your laugh was breathy and choked as his hands pulled your robe open, dragged you to the edge of the table. “You cocky bastard.”

Din smacked the inside of your thigh. Hard. You gasped, shock and pain and pleasure. 

“Watch that mouth of yours, plaything.” His voice was low and dangerous, sending shivers from your spine to your core. “Or I may have to teach it a lesson.” 

Your head rolled back, smiling. You wrapped your legs around him and pulled him in, tugging his pants down and shifting to line him up. 

“Yes sire.” 

~

“Din Din Din Din _Din!_ ”

The sound of your voice, the name of the King, bounced and echoed off the ceiling of the council chamber. Your back hit the wood of the table again and again, his pace relentless. Your body seized, curling into him, nails scraping down his shoulders. 

“Gonna think of you every time I come here now,” Din grunted, chasing his own high as you came down from yours. “Those old men will jab at me and I’ll only be thinking of you, helpless under me, clawing the hell out of my back…” 

You moaned, loving the gruff of his passion-filled voice and the words it spilled. Your noise was the last thing he needed. The King went rigid, body stilling with a choked gasp before he slumped on top of you, breathless. 

The sound of your exhausted pants filled the room as you clung to each other. Din didn’t move, laying fully on you, nose nuzzled against your cheek. You allowed it for as long as you could, enjoying the intimacy and his softness. Eventually though, his weight began taking a toll on your lungs. You turned to kiss his cheek. 

“You’re squishing me love,” you whispered gently. 

He grunted an apology and lifted off you, rising on his knees to replace his pants. You leaned up with a grin and stroked his abdomen.

“Where to next?”

Din chuckled and kissed your forehead. “Bed. We can continue tomorrow.”

“Oh come on,” you pouted. “There are dozens of rooms in this place and we only checked off two. You can’t be that tired.”

“I can,” he argued. “And so are you, I can tell.” Before you could disagree, he cut you off, “Besides, we need to get you cleaned up.” He tapped the sticky mess on the inside of your thighs. 

You frowned and grumbled all the way to the edge of the table, where he waited to help you climb down from between the swiveling seats. Instead of accepting his hand, you perched on the edge and held your arms up. Din rolled his eyes.

“Really?”

“But I’m so tired,” you whined, closing your eyes for effect and making grabby motions with your hands. 

You heard a huff, followed by a pair of strong arms plucking you from the table. You leaned contentedly against his shoulder, arms around his neck. 

“So where do we start _tomorrow_?” 

“Hmm…” his chest rumbled. You heard the creak of a door, the pads of his feet across the stone. “How about the armory?” 

You snorted. “How would that work? Pretty sure there’s no flat surfaces anywhere in there.”

“The floor.” 

You smiled and raised your head to whisper in his ear, “Gonna take me on the floor huh? Like some animal?”

“I’ll take you anywhere,” he growled, his hands curling tighter on your body. 

Despite your exhaustion, a fresh wave of arousal coursed through your body, so easily summoned by his voice. You wanted to beg him to go there now, take you on the damn floor of the armory. But you knew he wouldn’t. Once Din decided you needed rest and care, there was no telling him otherwise. 

Din carried you to the fresher, where you were surprised to find a hot bath already waiting. He must have managed to send a message to the service droid when you weren’t paying attention. 

“Now my love,” Din said softly as he set you on the edge of the tub. “I believe it’s your turn to be honest with me.” 

You cocked your head curiously. Din carefully slipped the robe from your body. Then he grabbed a wash rag and dipped it in the water, dabbing at your aching thighs carefully. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” his free hand reached down to massage your hip, “We can kill two birds with one blast, and explore some of _your_ fantasies at the same time we do mine.”

You looked up, bottom lip between your teeth, eyes bright with interest. Din chuckled and kneeled in front of you, nudging your legs open a little wider, continuing his smooth strokes with the rag. 

“So, plaything,” he whispered, angel soft, “What is it you desire?” 


End file.
